Far too long
by Kyrri
Summary: A rather chilling look at what the future might hold. (Logan/Remy slash implied)


Title: Far Too Long  
  
Author: Kyrri  
  
Author's e-mail: kyrrissean@hotmail.com Sequel/Series: None Rating: PG Disclaimer: No, not mine, all Marvel's, as always. Summary: A rather chilling look at what the future might hold. Archive: If you could just drop me a note to tell me where. Warnings: Somebody died! Don't kill me when you find out who. Feedback: Pretty please, with a cherry on top!  
  
Far Too long. By Kyrri  
  
Someone once told me that those guilty feelings we get when something goes wrong, even though we know there was absolutely nothing else we could do, comes straight from the devil. What? You didn't take me for the religious type? Oh, you're laughing now, but wait. Let me tell you there might not be a god, but there certainly is a devil. A white devil in fact. And his name is Remy LeBeau.  
  
Don't believe me? There's a tale somewhere in here, you know. Or don't you want to know? It doesn't matter really; leave if you want. Let the walls be privy to my thoughts. At least they can keep secrets.  
  
Secrets you ask. But you'd have to listen to my story to know them. What? Leaving already? Just when we were getting so well acquainted? No. just getting a chair so you don't wear out those delicate feet of yours.  
  
You don't like that, do you? But it just wouldn't do to be provoked by a madman, now would it? You scholarly types are all the same - gutless. Now, my devil had guts, he wouldn't just be sitting there all prim and proper listening to me demean him.  
  
But why react at all? Not like I'm going anywhere. It's not like you feel threatened by me. What do you have to fear from a half-pint like me?  
  
Not that stupid, hah? Too bad. I don't get much exercise in here.  
  
What? Now you want to know about my devil? Are you sure? You are. good enough for me.  
  
Tell me. are you a religious person? No. Too bad. Remy was a religion onto himself. I'd gladly have worshipped at his feet. Gladly, not that he would have let me.  
  
I don't even know how to start telling you what he was. Maybe I should try telling you what he wasn't. But you might get the wrong idea and think him a saint. My devil was no saint. If anything he was the embodiment of sin. And eternal damnation would be small recompense for just one glance, one touch, one kiss.  
  
But I'm getting side-tracked, now aren't I? You asked for a secret, a story, and I'm busy spouting sonnets. Well, I'll tell you the secret, if you come a little closer. No? Can't blame a man-beast for trying, can you?  
  
Where was I? Ah, yes. A secret. We're in love with the devil. The beast and I. Bet you could have guessed, but they never did. The team didn't suspect a thing, but then they were always good at not seeing what was right in front of their eyes.  
  
The devil stole our heart with his nimble thief-fingers. He stole it and he never gave it back. Never.  
  
We don't want it back! We want him back!  
  
What? Afraid? Don't worry, these chains won't let us get to you. We've tried cutting them out of the wall, but we know you scholarly-types are smart - smart enough to line the walls with Adamantium, smart enough not to come too close.  
  
That's it, move the chair back over and sit down. I won't lunge at you again, but he might. I never could control him, but our devil could. He knew the beast's tune. He made the animal sleep.  
  
But he's gone! He left us!  
  
No, don't go; don't call them. We'll play nice, we won't pull at the chains, we'll tell you a story. How does that sound? We'll tell you about a prince, a Prince of Thieves. We'll tell you about his devil's eyes and his angel's soul. And you'll find him for us, won't you? We know he's there. You'll tell him we want him back? You'll tell him we need him back?  
  
Please? No, don't go.  
  
Don't go.  
  
**********  
  
"Who was he?" the woman asked. She looked through the barred window at the figure crouched and defeated in the corner of his small padded cell.  
  
"You were in dere with him and you don' know?" the man responded, pulling at the sleeve of his jacket.  
  
"They told me nothing, only that I shouldn't go near him, no matter what he said."  
  
The man nodded in understanding. "Wolverine, 'e was one of de X-Men."  
  
"The X-Men? But that's not possible! The last of the X-Men where."  
  
".disbanded o'er two centuries ago," he finished the woman's sentence when she stopped. She was still staring consideringly through the glass at the prisoner.  
  
"And this devil, he's ranting about? This Remy LeBeau?" the woman asked.  
  
"Gambit, also affiliated with de X-Men. 'e died of natural causes more than fifty years 'fore Professor Xavier's dream was realized." The man answered, looking at the woman as she still closely observed the patient.  
  
"He's not dead!" the Wolverine called from inside his cell, the chains rattling as he pulled at them, claws snaking out to slash uselessly at the air. "He's not dead!"  
  
The woman shook her head turning to face the man. "How long has he been here? Like this?"  
  
He smiled softly, red on black eyes sparkling in the dim light of the corridor. "Far too long, petite, far too long." 


End file.
